


A Steady Push and Pull Routine

by ignited



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-14
Updated: 2009-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They always seem to fit right back together. Staying together, though, that's the problem.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Steady Push and Pull Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/profile)[**clex_monkie89**](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/) for [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_xmas**](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/). Based off the prompts _wrestling_ and _Jared and Jensen coming out_. I tried to include as much of your likes as possible. Sorry for the delay! I hope you like it! Many thanks to [](http://regala-electra.livejournal.com/profile)[**regala_electra**](http://regala-electra.livejournal.com/) for the beta as well as [](http://memphis86.livejournal.com/profile)[**memphis86**](http://memphis86.livejournal.com/) for the valuable input.

The end comes a few years after _Supernatural_ finishes. Early enough that it doesn't happen with a coffee table biography, late enough that it doesn't end up on the E! Channel coverage 24/7. It's dealt with quickly in public, and after the media has had their share, they move on to whatever new thing catches their interest.

If it was this easy, Jared would've done it years before.

But he's always been a little slow on the uptake.

 

—

 

At first, it's almost a little unnerving as to how smoothly things go. They hit it off from the start, and when Jensen needs a place to stay once the fourth season starts, Jared doesn't even hesitate on offering. There's a comfortable feel to their relationship—whether it's the similar backgrounds, values, or Texas, the very Texas that tinges their tired drawl when they leave a bar too late, a quick outing thrown for one of the crew member's birthdays.

Jared is handsy when he's drunk. Jensen doesn't think too much of it, letting his head sink back against Jared's shoulder on the cab ride home.

It's comfortable when Jared presses up against Jensen, hand resting on his thigh. _More_ than comfortable when Jared presses his hand against the small of Jensen's back when they're getting into the house. Fingers spanned wide, a natural fit, just like the way Jared's mouth feels against Jensen's own. The first few kisses are surprisingly coordinated before they're staggering to Jensen's bedroom—and after that, it's sloppy and messy, Jared grazing Jensen's jaw with his teeth, stubble rubbing on his lips.

Jensen can only grunt when Jared's wrist flicks lazily as he gives a half hearted pump to Jensen's dick, barely freed from his pants. They're all tangled up in sheets and jackets, a messy pile of hangovers and bad breath the next morning.

But it's comfortable and Jensen sinks back, feeling Jared's bony elbow dig into his side.

 

—

 

"So," Jared says. He's sitting on a chair backwards, eyeing Jensen over the lunch table at craft services. "You haven't called me back."

"We live together," Jensen points out.

"Common decency, dude."

"I'd call it conserving energy."

Jared looks up from thumbing the trackwheel on his iPod. "Keep it up and I won't let you wine and dine me again."

"You're turning down food. This is serious," Jensen acknowledges with a nod. " _That_ doesn't count as a date."

"Do we count the part where I gave you a hand job or the part where you stuck your tongue down my throat? Because I think those qualify."

Jensen grimaces. "Dude."

"Better not be," Jared says lightly, sticking his iPod ear buds into his ears. It's a process, getting comfortable, because he wriggles his ass a few inches closer until his elbow knocks into Jensen's.

He keeps it there for the rest of the break, along with his thigh and knee. It doesn't bother Jensen, but he wonders why his stomach is twisting into knots.

 

—

 

When _Supernatural_ gets picked up for a fifth season, Kripke leaves a message on their answering machine. "Fucking CW!" he starts, followed by a string of babbling that goes on until the machine beeps again. It's not like Kripke isn't grateful—they all are, the whole set. Just that his show has to keep on rolling, even if he'd rather let the storylines wrap earlier.

Part of Jared feels like he can't breathe and his chest is too tight. On the one hand, he'll have a steady job. He won't have to move just yet. On the other hand, he almost feels like he's stalling the inevitable. The show has enough going on for at least another year, but every time his agent comes calling, the lure of bigger—and maybe better—things starts to gnaw at Jared. He knows it's a good thing, this desire to stretch himself.

Peter O'Toole called him a good actor. Peter might have also been high on life at the time but after, Jared didn't cry at hear him saying that, so maybe he is becoming a better actor.

Jensen reacts a little differently to the news about the fifth season.

"Great, another year of doing laundry," Jensen groans, reaching up to pull down a box of cereal. "I'm thrilled."

"You make it sound like it's a chore," Jared accuses. He shoves Jensen in the shoulder, almost grabbing the shopping cart handle. Jensen won't budge. Jensen holds onto the cart for support, looking every part the grumpy old man. From his baseball cap and sunglasses down to the slow shuffle he takes going down the aisles, neatly pushing items in the cart to the sides once Jared throws them in.

Jensen turns a corner, coming into the produce section. "You do realize that now's the time to throw out that ratty pair of boxers you have?"

"I thought I'd leave 'em to you. It's in my will," Jared says. He waves a can of Pringles for emphasis. "You should check it out."

Jensen grunts in response, too busy examining heads of lettuce.

"What're you going to do?"

Jensen looks blankly at Jared. "Check for freshness?"

"No." Jared sighs. "Shit, I mean what're you gonna do after? After this is all over."

Jensen's mouth pulls into a thin line as he bags a head of lettuce, tossing it into the cart. He starts to move, keeping a white knuckled grip on the shopping cart. Jared follows him from a few feet behind as they move into a narrow aisle.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it," Jensen admits. Off Jared's narrowed eyes, Jensen shakes his head. "I'm just trying to keep my head up. That's—that's all I can do right now. What we got going is—"

"Good," Jared interrupts. He scratches his head, feeling the beanie cap move back and forth. "This is good, right?"

Jensen arches an eyebrow. "Could be better. Did you hear that part about the laundry?"

"I'd let you blow me right now but I can feel them all watching me." Jared gestures at the cans of baby food and the smiling toddlers on the labels. "Little hands."

"You're a sick man, Padalecki," Jensen states, clapping Jared on the shoulder, offering a little squeeze.

 

—

 

It's good for a long, long while. They share the same interests, same call times and same bed times. They're so wrapped up in each other's lives that it feels like a natural progression. Maybe not natural, but _new_ and _good_ : they know what each other's up to, and don't have to fly or take long drives for relationship time.

It stalls, a little. When they're stressed, it's hard not to snap at each other over stupid shit—groceries, dirty dishes, who gets control of the remote. They ride it out, keep it under the radar so it doesn't get picked up by, well, anyone. Jared's tight lipped on set, tense whenever certain questions pop up, _what are you doing later? This weekend?_

Jared wants to sing it from the rooftops, to be ridiculous and over the top. But he can barely keep himself together when Jensen casts a certain look his way—sexy or stupid, whatever it is, Jared doesn't need another reason to start a laughing fit in the middle of a scene.

Though he _can_ get away with groping. Because, well, that's expected of him.

A part of him, too, wants to keep it all to himself. A logical part, sure, because of the press, and that dorky part, the secret, high school crush part.

Jared manages to keep quiet and no one picks up on anything, he guesses.

Even if Jensen will chime in with, "We live together," like that's his default answer to the topic. Like they can't just be roommates who spend every waking moment together.

Fine. Jensen might have a point.

By the time they're ready to wrap, Jensen has a movie lined up. A low budget horror film, with a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Jared doesn't talk to him about how there's only a handful of horror movie plots, not when he's seriously considering doing the _Friday the 13 th_ sequel. The point is, Jensen will be in Prague for two months, and will call, write, send smoke signals, "and whatever else."

"You can call the hotel in the morning," he's saying, out of breath as he nudges Jared's knee with his leg. "You listening? I'm not sure how good my phone reception's gonna be."

"Uh," Jared says around a pull of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, did you leave the number on the fridge?"

"I just said that I did."

Jared shakes his head, leaning in the direction of the TV, watching as a receiver makes it a few yards before getting tackled.

He can hear Jensen scowling, a wisp of curses before he gives up, leaving the room again. He'll be back in a couple of minutes, pacing nervously, trying to find where his glasses are (on his face), and if he's got his plane tickets (tucked safely in the outside pocket of Jensen's carry-on; Jared had put them there). The guy's used to flying every other week but he has never been one for long flights. Jared can't blame him. Just the thought of his last trip to Australia nearly gives him a leg cramp.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see Jensen clasp his hands, running his thumbs over his fingers, endlessly fidgeting. The urge to feel the coarse pads of his thumbs, fingers pressing on Jared's face and neck comes suddenly, making him sit up straighter. The TV goes in soft focus when it comes to Jared's attention span, as he leans back, craning his neck to get a better view.

"Come here," Jared says, stretching an arm out on the couch. "Chill, dude."

"My flight's in two hours," Jensen says. He flops down onto the couch, hard and fast enough that he nearly rocks forward and onto his feet again. But Jared's outstretched arm catches him, pulling him back. He grips too hard and Jensen gives him a look, unspoken question _what gives?_

Jared leans in, softly kissing Jensen on the mouth. It's hesitant, almost awkward, even more when he doesn't pull back far enough, close enough to stare at the bump of Jensen's nose and the curves of his cheekbones. "I'll call you in the morning. Before you need to be on set."

He can feel Jensen tighten up, the muscle in his thigh jerking when Jared puts a hand there, rubbing back and forth. "Don't want to keep a big movie star from his first day on set."

The snark in his voice draws a grin out of Jensen, and a kiss too, one that's equally soft and slow, drawn out and tugging on Jared's lower lip. He could stay like this for hours, kissing Jensen back, if he didn't have things like needing to pee or Jensen needing to catch a plane and—yeah, Jared is beginning to think this might have been a dumb idea, because his chest aches something bad. Feeling Jensen's hand come up to cup his face doesn't help alleviate the ache that settles, not even when his thumb skims Jared's temple, pushing back a lock of hair behind his ear.

Jensen kisses him quickly once more, a darting sweep of his tongue. "Gotta—gotta go. Plane."

"Yeah," Jared says. He clears his throat. "Yeah."

 

—

The shoot lasts two months and a week, going over budget.

Even though there's never enough coffee to get Jensen through the early call times and all the rainy, muddy weather makes him feel like he hasn't been clean in months, he's learning something _different_ , new. More often than not, he's on the sidelines as they roll film, his part the kind of character that lurks in the background of seemingly every scene, but not enough dialogue to cheer him up. Jensen tends to hang around set between scenes, growing fascinated with the process. It isn't too different—television on a bigger scale, that's all—but for this time, he gets used to hanging with the director more than the actors.

"So, what do you think?"

He's completely daydreaming, too, snapping his mouth shut as he looks up from the small video screen. The director, Paul, is a few years older than him and an all around good guy, even if he's wearing a trendy scarf. The pink plaid print makes Jensen think Paul would get along fine with Jared.

"About the scene?" Jensen shifts his weight from one foot to another. "Hey, it's not my movie, man. Don't want to judge."

"Hey, whatever makes the movie better," Paul says, gesturing with his cup of coffee.

"I think a slower push in adds more tension than a faster one. Otherwise it's just, I don't know." Jensen scratches his chin. "Too fast. Spastic cuts, you know? Slower and it gets tense."

Paul stares at him for a moment—one that runs too long and makes Jensen nervous—before he breaks out into a grin, nodding his agreement. "That—That could work. Yeah."

It's a horror movie. It's not exactly fine art. Jensen's aware of it, yet still geeking out when they go out for drinks with the crew after filming wraps for the day. They talk long into the night, and for days after, all about the different parts that make up a whole.

And Jensen likes it. He's completely fascinated with it all.

It's a realization that's been brewing for months, maybe even years. On _Supernatural_ , Jensen would be fiddling around with the camera between takes or trying to get that perfect photo, making sure the framing was correct and balanced. They were some of the best times on set when he wasn't acting. When he could try to learn more, and with Jared often nearby and as the subject of his photos.

Shooting over budget and over time means he and Jared are passing ships, leaving each other short phone calls at odd hours because of the time zone differences. A week before he's set to come back, Jared's off to shoot a movie for three months in Mexico.

There's this feeling of inevitability that surfaces in Jensen, settling in when he gets back to an empty house.

 

—

 

The temperature manages to throw Jared for a loop as he pulls his shirt from sticking to the small of his back. He's used to the heat, so it shouldn't be that much of a big deal filming in Mexico—but waiting for Jensen to pick up the phone might be why he's in serious need of a shower.

"Hey," comes the voice on the other end. Jared nearly misses his bed, sitting down in a rush.

"Hey. When did you get back?"

Jensen coughs, clearing his throat. "Yesterday. Bright and early."

"How's the weather?"

"What?"

He can hear Jensen make this small, lame laugh, and he rushes ahead, mumbling, "I miss your sorry ass."

"Who'd a thunk it?"

"Knowing you, your dick fell off or something. Just got up and died," Jared says, nodding even though Jensen can't see him. "It missed me that much."

"You're pretty sure of yourself."

"Scientific fact," Jared says.

"Yeah, 'cause it's not like I have two hands."

"It's not big enough for two hands."

"Jared," Jensen interrupts, his tone low, a little stuffed up. Jared tries to remember where he last left the Nyquil when Jensen says, "So you missed me?"

"Don't tell anybody," Jared warns. He picks at a loose thread on his jeans, fingernail scraping his knee. "When are you free?"

"I gotta check. I think… Shit. Sorry. Tripped over your damn shoes. I gotta check my e-mail."

"Check it. We have to schedule."

Jensen only grunts and the phone goes quiet for a while as he looks through the house for his laptop.

He's in talks to do a couple of supporting roles that'll keep him busy for the next few months, just as Jared finally got the go for the _Friday the 13 th_ sequel a few days ago. The likelihood of them seeing each other drops as the film projects line up and intersect, too much work that'll have them trying to sift through the days for time off to meet, let alone live together.

So they decide to put things on hold for the time being. It's only fair.

That doesn't mean they have to like it.

 

—

 

When Jensen moves out, he forgets two boxes of his stuff in the closet. Old DVDs, some seasonal clothing, two bestseller books he never actually read. Jared discovers the box when he's trying to pull out a bulky coat out, ready to take Harley and Sadie for their morning walk after a freak snowstorm the night before.

Automatically, Jared dials Jensen's number, getting his voicemail. He looks at the box then back to the phone again, sighing before the beep comes on.

The message he leaves is short and sweet, just like the text he gets back a few hours later, _in vancouver, tv movie. Drinks?_

Jared texts back _yep_.

He really doesn't expect to hit his head on the dresser after tripping over Jensen's jeans the next morning, but things have never turned out the way Jared expected them to.

 

—

 

The rhythm and humor they share makes the stretches easier. Jensen's used to being away from his family for a long while—up in Vancouver or just messing around in Los Angeles, he can find a way to deal. People to visit, chores to catch up with. Sometimes it even feels like he’s getting away with faking a semblance of being normal when he’s doing these activities by himself. Without Jared around at all times, it’s kind of weird how Jensen feels like he’s missing something on his person. Like a phantom limb, or a wound that didn’t heal correctly, that he feels the need to scratch. It scares him, even.

But then the vacations and shoots wind down, and they get back together again, thrown into the thick of long hours and later wrap-ups. Even during the times when they’re not working and can barely manage to communicate without coffee in the morning, there’s signs they pick up, a made up language of expressions and jokes that only they understand.

So that has always helped the stretches in between—how’re they’re able to pick things up again as if no time apart has passed.

In theory, it helps. That's what they're going on when they agree to put things on hold.

In reality, Jensen hasn’t seen Jared for six months.

He's finished wrapping two supporting roles in smaller films, the same kind of mainstream vein that allows him to get a little more involved in the process.

When the call comes, it’s just as random as Jensen’s schedule has been, a stroke of luck that he’d been in L.A. to begin with, to be able to come by so quickly. It’s also pretty random when Jensen gets a few yards into the lot and suddenly is confronted with a bear hug, sweat and warmth relieving a need he didn’t know he had.

Jensen’s name is muffled, Jared carrying on a conversation with Jensen’s neck. He laughs a little, trying to push Jared back, but not before Jared’s lips brush his neck on the last words, _missed you_.

"You look good," Jared says softly. Jared’s bulked up again and could probably crush Jensen now that Jensen’s on his not-really-exercising-at-all diet. "Real good."

The massive sets around them curved up in twisted shards of metal and glass. It's an action movie and Jared is the rugged leading man, his clothes amounting to one too many pieces of leather and denim. He's a leading man, all right, although his choice of vehicle is questionable.

Jensen leans against the motorcycle Jared's straddling. "I never took you for a leather daddy. It's a little much, isn't it?"

"Beats sitting behind a camera."

Jensen snorts. "Directing's a little different."

"You're not," Jared says lightly, a wry grin as he looks over at Jensen. "I can still take your ass down."

Jensen pushes off the motorcycle, easy, pulling off his jacket. He rolls up his sleeves, seeing Jared hesitate out of the corner of his eye as he turns around. "Wanna bet?"

"Oh, this is _on_."

There are times when Jensen wishes he could keep his mouth shut. Bad enough he's still awful at interviews after all these years, feeling awkward and tongue tied at the questions presented. He'd rather stay quiet than answer half of the questions he gets—but Jared has always known him too well, the exact places to apply pressure, the precise ways to pull information out.

To get himself looser, more truthful.

More blurting, is more like it.

Because although wrestling with Jared isn't a painful experience—even if he's got a solid amount of weight on Jensen—it leads to a headlock, and Jensen's face nearly pressed into Jared's armpit. Turns out it's more like a pleasurable one, as Jensen feels himself going hard with Jared's hip and waist pressed against Jensen's own.

It's easy to forget they're a few feet away from a movie set and nowhere near the safety of the trailers. He can hear crew members laughing in the background, watching them horsing around. Jensen can feel his face redden and Jared pulls him along as they stagger a few feet. Jared loses his footing and soon enough Jensen's able to push him off and throw him down to the dirt, panting as he looks down at Jared's wide eyes.

Everyone's quiet for a second, before Jared laughs and gets a hand from Jensen, pulling him to his feet.

"You just got lucky," he scoffs, patting Jensen on the arm.

He tells him that later, "lucky" when they pull away after the scenes wrap for the day. Lucky that Jared's hips press against Jensen's own, rubbing against Jensen's leg. He's broad and solid, almost enveloping as he leans over Jensen, pressing him his back to the cool metal of the trailer wall. Jared's face is covered in shadow, light playing along his brow and nose, orange over the blue shadows on his mouth and cheeks. Six months without seeing each other face to face and yet the press of his fingers against Jensen's neck feels the same. The little grunts Jared makes as his lips miss Jensen's mouth, scraping stubble along his skin, that's all familiar. Even if the shape and weight of Jared changes, the breadth of his shoulders as Jensen grips at his back.

Palming Jared's shoulder, Jensen grunts as Jared works a way up his neck, a free hand moving to fumble with Jensen's zipper.

He unzips, fingers poke, scrape, and then he's jerking off Jensen in record time, cutting through the soft noise of moans and rustling clothes with his murmured voice.

"Missed this," Jared says. "Missed you, missed us. Please—god, _Jensen_."

"Jay—" Jensen's cut off, feeling his hips jerk as Jared jacks him off, long and slow pumps, speed ramping up. "Ja—God, Jared, I—"

All he gets is this grin, wide and hopeful, Jared's teeth bright in the dark. " _Jensen_."

He shoots his load all over Jared's pants, feeling his heels touch the ground, body slumping against the wall of the trailer. Jensen pants, breath coming out in little puffs that blow against Jared's bangs, leaning his forehead against Jared's own.

Jared starts to get his bearings, clearing his throat. His voice sounds strained. "How long are you staying?"

"Two more days. Then I get back to work."

"Oh," Jared says. "Yeah. Work."

—

 

Promoting his films always feels like a double edged sword. On the one hand, Jared's happy to be there, smiling and talking to reporters. It's a sense of accomplishment that he tries to think of whenever he's drained after a marathon of interviews, questions all blending together.

He gives straight answers about the movies, always enthusiastic, always truthful.

It's the personal questions that get Jared cagey now, no longer shooting from the hip like he used to. One too many bad experiences about his privacy and he's more careful. A little _too_ careful, his agent warns, telling Jared to loosen up.

He can only say, 'no comment,' to any questions about his love life only so many times.

—

They see each other whenever their schedules allow: breaks between filming, at premieres, charity events. Sometimes it’s awkward to smile for the cameras—not that they get many, they’re not pulling in the big audiences just yet—and grab, hold each other. Joke and laugh during interviews on the red carpet. Say that they talk to each other all the time, which they really don’t.

And the thing is, it really _is_ work getting in the way sometimes.

So time slips on by. They see other people. Jensen dates one of the script supervisors on the second film he directs, an indie drama. According to the gossip blogs, Jared gets engaged, even, though it only lasts a month.

Jensen thinks he'd be more offended if wasn't for Jared giving him some fucking fantastic head after they bump into each other backstage at a David Cook concert. It's not in the stalls or in the alley, or parking lot. It's at Jared's brand new bachelor pad when they do it, two thousand square feet and a fantastic view of the valley that Jensen gets a glimpse at over the bobbing head of Jared. But it's hard to remain distracted at the view when he has this wonderful sight in front of him, that of Jared's mouth swallowing Jensen whole, up and down, moaning a different note in each direction.

Jensen would say that they need to stop meeting like this, but again, Jared swallowing _whole_ , no gag reflex whatsoever.

It makes up for his lack of technique, because Jared's just messy tonight, slurping enthusiastically at Jensen's cock, fingers pressing hard against the dips of Jensen's hipbones.

He does say it though, afterwards. He says it when they're spent and loose limbed, Jared curving around the bed's wet spot. He breathes hot and heavy against Jensen's shoulder, face smooshed against his chest.

"Yeah," Jared admits. "I'm beginning to think you only want me for my awesome bod."

"I'm beginning to realize you might be an idiot," Jensen retorts.

" _You're_ the one that moved out, you know."

"Because it wasn't—!" Jensen sighs, playing with the soft strands of hair on Jared's neck. "It wasn't going to last. We're too busy and… and we can't. Not the way it should be like."

Jared lifts his head, brow furrowing. "Like what?"

"Just you and me in public. No fake engagements. No hiding."

Jensen can feel Jared snort, lips brushing his chest. "You're like, a big dork."

"Says the dude who kept licking my dick like it's a friggin' ice cream cone," Jensen replies dryly.

"So much hate, Ackles." Jared's grin is wide and lazy. "So much hate."

 

—

 

They always seem to fit right back together.

Staying together, though, that's the problem.

 

—

"You wanna touch my ass or something?" Chad asks. He pops a mini weenie in his mouth, palms out. "I mean, I'll do it right now. Get _Brokeback_ on me. C'mon."

Chad leans in, thoughtfully munching. "Just. Not all the way. I like you, man, but you might fuckin' put a hole in me with that thing."

The free swag and roaming celebrities are thankfully more interesting to the reporters nearby than Chad's display, though Jared grabs his arm before he can start any hand gestures. A group of young women at the next table whisper to each other and look in Jared's direction, nodding and wiggling their hands, a writing gesture. Jared signs a few autographs and poses for a picture, thankful for the minor break as Chad settles down. They meet up due to a break in their schedules—Jared, in between movies, and Chad, fresh off a pilot he's taped for Showtime. He catches up with Chad looking through neat lines of aviator sunglasses, grinning into a small mirror as he tries them on.

"Chad, if I come out, I'll do it tastefully. _Not_ with a full body grope in the middle of a hotel lobby." Jared scowls. "This, this is why I don't tell you anything. I'm having a personal crisis here and you mock me."

"I'm not mocking you, cowboy. Don't forget, I offered. Free publicity," Chad sniffs, turning to look at Jared in the face. "If I were you, I'd do it."

"Do you even know what that is?" Jared asks incredulously, trying to keep his voice level and not all squawky. He pulls Chad over to the side, ignoring the urge to hide behind one very tall potted plant. "Coming out? The tabloids would have a field day."

"Who? Your fans? Your mom?" Chad shrugs. "Your fans already think you two are fucking, and your mom probably knit him a Christmas sweater."

Now that he mentions it, Jared's mother has always insisted on making sure Jensen was well fed whenever she visited, and invited him over for the holidays a few times, offering a bed to stay. Jared does have a sneaking suspicion that the bed might be _his_.

Chad slings an arm around Jared's shoulder, escorting him to the elevator. "You gotta ask yourself, do you see this going anywhere? Do you see yourself in ten, twenty years with, like, baby vomit on you and little league practice and dinner parties or whatever, and you're getting old and you wake up every day looking at him, thinking, man, I could do this forever? And by do, I mean all that. And him. With sex. Unless he's on his period. Uh, I mean, unless he's cranky. No pressure."

"Um," Jared says. "Yeah?"

"Well, good. Get it out in the open. They're gonna find out anyway. They always do." Chad claps him on the shoulder as the elevator doors glide open. "Let's go out tomorrow. I fly out on Thursday."

He's left waving to Chad's back lamely, jingling the keys in his pocket, a nervous twitch.

 

—

 

Although Chad's right in his own Chad-like way, Jared has his own ideas about how it's going to happen.

He just needs to ride this all out. A few of his movies are coming out in succession, delayed releases that make it seem like he's inundating the box office—it makes Jared feel awkward to see himself on glossy magazines as the next big thing, when he isn't; it's just the roll of the dice. Thing is, people are noticing him. People want him to act, want him to show up to premieres. He's the flavor of the month or whatever his agent tells him.

It makes Jared feel a little awkward. And, yeah, pleased as all hell.

He's riding this wave right now and he needs to move very, very carefully, because one bad decision and he's back on a _Gilmore Girls_ TV movie.

That, combined with the complete torture he's receiving, makes him a little reluctant to say anything. Other than moaning. His voice is ragged as it is, body weary and spent from stretching over Jensen a half hour before, finding that spot he always missed when they were apart, and fitting in just like he's meant to, with his mouth and with his cock.

"Shut up, I'm making a work of art here," Jensen's saying, his voice a few notches higher than Jared's used to. He thinks Jensen might drop that extra _oomph_ he adds to his voice when he's around Jared, but if he were to bring this up, Jensen would snap at him.

"Jensen, if you're drawing me as that detective character again, for the last time, no. I'm not doing that movie."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see the tip of Jensen's tongue, right at the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, drawing swirls with a ballpoint pen.

Jared thinks Jensen's worst nightmare nowadays might be him getting caught fantasizing about storyboards and lenses rather than being caught with his pants down behind a trailer.

Rolling his shoulder muscle, Jared eases up, chin resting on his folded arms. Jensen's fingertips ghost along the bend and curve of his spine, the thin tip of the pen making Jared shake a little, feeling shivers of pleasure.

"It's a great script," Jensen whispers. "We can work together again."

Jared pulls back a little, looking up at Jensen. "You think that's a good idea?"

Jensen shrugs. "We work better together."

"And—"

"And you look good in a trench coat and a fedora?"

"Yeah, you're not getting any bonus points," Jared says, turning abruptly and feeling the pen scrape a crooked line on his back as he moves. Above him, Jensen looks soft and rumpled, bangs in need of cutting, lips curling into a smirk. He rests on the bed with an elbow, free hand dangling the pen suspiciously close to Jared's left nipple.

"Let's say we do this movie together. They'll be all over us if they find out."

Jensen seems a little wistful, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "We can't stall our lives just because of that. I don't want to live that way. Not with you."

Jared stretches, reveling in the warmth of Jensen's body that radiates through the bed sheets. He can ride it out, sure, but they've got to talk about this nipple drawing thing. Now that's just _cruel_.

 

—

 

What's cruel, Jared thinks, is that he looks like crap in the first paparazzi photos of him that leak off the set of Jensen Ackles' detective thriller. They're blurry and grainy to begin with, and the _scene_ calls for him to wear that coat, even if it's itchy and makes him look like an idiot.

The differences between acting with Jensen and being _directed_ by Jensen are wide and varied. Jensen's always a grouch in the morning, so that doesn't change. But being directed by him? It's a learning experience. He's this charming, witty guy that transforms into a drill sergeant, teacher, artist at a moment's notice. He keeps his cool when things get fucked up, when equipment malfunctions or they're going through take after take, flat and boring.

Another difference is that even though they're living in each other's pockets again, sharing the same space, they're putting their all into this movie. This _works_. They get that rhythm together, where it's like no time at all has passed, and they hit their marks nine times out of ten.

Even the times when they don't, Jared doesn't feel like he's on his own here, like the other films. He's got someone at his back, who just so happens to be the director.

And boyfriend, who smirks behind a hand as he watches from the side, the camera slowly panning up Jared's body during a scene in an alleyway at night.

"Cut!" Jensen shouts, pulling the headphones off. "Think we're gonna need a crane shot to fit Jared in the frame."

Jared flips him the bird, matching Jensen's grin as some crew members laugh.

 

—

 

Somehow, the room is packed to capacity, the walls and aisles lined with the press, tape recorders and cameras poised. A wall of microphones and cameras aimed right at them, and with the fuzzy echo of sound that passes for microphones, Jensen feels like he's caught in a fishbowl.

He can feel Jared tapping his foot next to him, gulping down water. Jared has a few years of conventions and press tours under his belt and yet he looks nauseated. Jensen's almost glad they're doing this sitting down and not standing, because at least the table blocks his shoes from vomit. He can't help thinking about it. They're pretty good shoes.

The table also blocks him from the waist down, so he's able to put a hand on Jared's thigh, giving a reassuring squeeze.

The noisy din of conversation soon dies down as the questions begin. They're lobbing some soft ones, _did you think this was going to work out?_ and _how's your chemistry_ —easy enough that the answers roll off Jensen's tongue. He laughs and nods in the appropriate places, because Jared's quiet for most of the small talk, squirming in his seat a little.

It's a stilted atmosphere. Jared knows how to work the crowd but he just isn't _doing_ it, more content to smile wanly at Jensen's deadpan responses.

Then the _real_ questions start. Jared tenses as one of the reporters asks, "How did you both decide to come out with this now?"

Jared leans over, a triangle peak of flesh visible from his unbuttoned shirt. He covers Jensen's microphone with one large hand, saying, "I got this. I _am_ the smarter one, no matter what Mr. _Young Star of Tomorrow_ will tell you."

Jensen rolls his eyes, continuing anyway. "The script was great. Lots of thrills. Lots of action. I thought it was right up Jared's alley so I called him up."

"It's not like he had anything better to do."

"Oh, yes, save me from my boredom," Jensen responds with a roll of his eyes, the crowd laughing amongst themselves.

They all settle down when another person comes to the microphone, a young man asking, "Would you two consider working together again? Maybe a _Supernatural_ film?"

"Sam and Dean, the senior citizen years," Jared jokes.

"Speak for yourself, buddy," Jensen interjects. "In this case, the time was right for us to do it. The story was great. If we get the right project, yeah, that helps. But it's fun just getting to work with this guy."

Jared grins, biting his lip. He rubs the back of Jensen's hand with his thumb, small touch that no one can see underneath the table, but it gets the message across.

 

—

 

Despite the fact that it's Jensen's turn behind the camera, he keeps ending up in front of them for interviews. He's nervous at the premiere, spots in his eyes from the flash of cameras, feeling sticky in the warm weather and his tight suit. Nearby, Jared's chatting up a storm, cheerful as he waves his hands, nearly whacking one reporter's microphone.

But when Jensen leans and calls Jared, he immediately bounds over like that young kid he met years before, a man that wraps his arms around Jensen as cameras flash.

It's natural for him to do it. Make faces, try and please the crowd. Touch and cling and grope Jensen, until Jensen feels himself blush at the amount of touching Jared's giving him.

It takes everything in him not to respond just as openly, just as strongly back.

His gaze locks on Jared's and he gets a confused look in return, one that quickly turns into understanding. That language they've made up is there, always, _always_ present.

And that's when they've had enough of hiding.

 

—

 

"We should get a couple of kids and matching towels," Jared says, pulling his tie loose and toeing his shoes off. "And buy a gay bar. Or a bed and breakfast. Free pancakes."

"We're not George and Brad," Jensen responds, grunting as he slides off his pants. "Nowhere in that league. There's no villa in our future."

"I had my hand on your belly! That's like, impregnating you!" Jared sighs exaggeratedly, pulling the tie up his neck and around his head. He's totally rocking the sweatband. "How more gay do I have to get?"

"Gayer without the threat of biologically impossible children."

He's unbuttoning his shirt when Jared finally gets his pants off, moving to straddle Jensen's lap. "It's all part of my plan."

Jensen licks his lips, gaze level with Jared's waist, his hands brushing Jared's hipbones slowly. "Did Chad have something to do with this?"

The lube is buried in the bedside drawer, Jared nearly pulling a back muscle to shift and reach over as Jensen smirks at him.

"You're making me do all the work?" Jared grumbles.

"Nah. You're just so good at it," Jensen retorts. "I'm tired."

Jared, on the other hand, isn't. He squirts some lube into his hand and starts to fist Jensen's cock, pumping slowly, watching Jensen stir awake, right to attention.

"Not _that_ tired," Jensen manages, eyes snapping shut as he jerks up with a groan, nearly bucking Jared right off him.

When Jared settles down on Jensen's cock, he can feel Jensen's grip turn rough and clamp down on Jared's hips, fingernails scraping Jared's skin. Soon enough, his eyes snap open, round and dark, mouth parting in little moans as Jared moves up and down, slow thrusting on Jensen's lap.

Jensen grunts as Jared shifts a little, muscles shake as he moves. Jared tries to keep his balance, keep up that rhythm that has Jensen clenching, hands fumbling in the dark as they slip from Jared's hips. And then he's holding on again, one hand to balance Jared, another around the base of Jared's cock.

He smears the pre-come at the tip with a swipe of his thumb, getting his hand slick to jack Jared off, shallow pumps to his cock.

"Come on," Jensen says, curt and low over Jared's soft moans. He repeats it, again and again, fingers trailing over the bed of Jared's hip.

The pacing increases and it isn't long before Jared's gritting his teeth, Jensen's name tearing out of him in a ragged moan. Shuddering as he rides it out, Jared can feel Jensen straining under him, releasing. Jared rides out the wave and lets go, spurting thick ropes of come on Jensen's belly and hands.

Jared remembers to pull off before he collapses on top of Jensen, spent and sleepy. He knows he wouldn't hear the end of it, not after the one time Jensen complained about his arms going all pins and needles.

It isn't long before he Jared rolls over to Jensen's side, sleep claiming them both.

—

"Maybe—" Jared spits in the sink, then rinses his toothbrush. "Maybe we should get married. That'd _really_ throw them."

He can Jensen snort in the bedroom, stepping out to watch Jensen give him a sarcastic look over the rims of his glasses. Jensen's at the desk drinking coffee and looking at his laptop. He takes a sip just as Jared bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Are you looking at the gossip blogs again?" Jared narrows his eyes, peering over Jensen's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me I looked weird at the premiere?"

"Because you were too busy groping the fuck out of me?" Jensen suggests. "Also, you can't use marriage as a tactic. That's cheating."

"How is that cheating?"

"I don't know—it, it just is." Jensen turns in his chair, pulling the laptop to rest on his lap. "You can't do that."

Jared laughs, pulling his discarded shirt off the floor. "What makes you think I haven't thought about it?"

Jensen looks startled when he says it, but his mouth curves into a smile.

—

Jensen's first response is to laugh.

The second is to call his agent. Then, maybe, his mother.

The third response, however, he can't go through with because Jared high tails it out of Jensen's trailer, too soon for Jensen to attack him. Granted, the attack would probably turn into a slapping, girly wrestle, because Jared cheats and likes to go below the belt. But the thought counts.

Somehow, he finds out he's gay—and possibly engaged—over the internet. By a choice exclusive interview with action star Jared Padalecki with _People_ magazine—though, not exclusive enough that they merit the full front page, only getting a thumbnail between Christina Aguilera and _High School Musical Reunion: Where Are They Now?_ instead.

It's okay as far as surprise interviews go. At least Jared doesn't go into sexual positions.

Though, for weeks after, the most memorable calls and responses he gets are from friends and family, who have this air of exasperation, and congratulation, too.

But then it dies down and it's back to work again.

One of the grips walks by Jensen and Jared pouring over a script, shaking his head, going, "Man, I lost my bet when you two would finally come out. Couldn't you have waited another couple of weeks?"

Jared raises his eyebrows, head canting in the guy's direction. He looks to Jensen, waiting.

"No, we couldn't," Jensen says, rubbing at the ring that feels strange and new on his finger. "Think we waited long enough."

Jared beams at him, brushing Jensen's cheek with his thumb as he leans in for a kiss.

END


End file.
